


reason to believe

by picht



Series: schizo verse [1]
Category: Polygon/McElroy Vlogs & Podcasts RPF
Genre: Anxiety, Aphasia, Disability, Disabled Character, Dystonia, Established Relationship, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Neurological Disorders, Physical Disability, Self-Esteem Issues, Speech Disorders, Stuttering, Wheelchairs, ataxia, based on op's personal experience, broca's aphasia, functional neurological disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-13 12:07:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19250890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/picht/pseuds/picht
Summary: The first flare up Brian has since getting the job at Polygon is… bad.It’s been--months. He knows it’s coming, starts feeling the warning signs near the end of the Gill and Gilbert he and Pat are streaming. He barely manages to keep it under control till they finish recording. The moment Pat ends the stream, Brian feels his eyes roll into his head, and that’s that....au where brian has functional neurological disorder and experiences his first flare up since starting his job.  based entirely off my my own experience with the disorder. 100% self indulgent vent fic in an attempt to cope with my first severe flare up in months which i can tell is gonna cause a huge loss of agency for a few weeks at least. please press f, lads.





	reason to believe

**Author's Note:**

> ok so this is. a lot.
> 
> first of all i wanna say that i'm aware that it is sometimes considered vaguely problematic to write rpf and give one of the "characters" a disability that they don't really have but! i dont really care tbh its almost 5 am and i cant sleep cuz i cant stop fucking shaking and jerking and i've made like 10 million vent posts on tumblr. i need a new outlet.
> 
> as i said, brian's experience and symptoms are 100% based off of my own. i'm not, like, going into this blind. i'm not writing it as an interesting plot device. not to be a huge bummer, just to give some context (and please don't like. tell me how sorry you are or ask if i'm ok in the comments), if this flare up i'm experiencing is as severe as i believe it is and will last as long as i am predicting, i will not be able to drive till my symptoms ease up. i will not be able to be in public without a wheelchair (which i don't use typically while in remission). i'm not employed for this exact reason but, like. if i DID have a job it would become extremely complicated. it SUUUUUCKS. so this is me, coping.
> 
> had to stick with my trend to title polygon fics after emo songs. this time around it's reason to believe by dashboard confessional

The first flare up Brian has since getting the job at Polygon is… bad.

It’s been-- _months_. He knows it’s coming, starts feeling the warning signs near the end of the Gill and Gilbert he and Pat are streaming. He barely manages to keep it under control till they finish recording. The moment Pat ends the stream, Brian feels his eyes roll into his head, and that’s that.

It’s not that it’s… entirely a secret, Brian’s disability. He had, obviously, had to disclose it to Tara upon getting the job offer, in the unfortunate case that anything like this happened. That doesn’t mean that as he feels his shoulders and legs and torso begin to tremor that he wants to die any less.

The thing is that, as far as Brian is aware, no one else in the office knows. He’d wanted to keep it on the down low (as is his right). It’s not public knowledge. Not even Pat knows, and they’ve been dating for, like, a month now. Pat’s about to fucking find out, though, Brian supposes.

“You, uh--you okay there, Bri?” Brian hears Pat’s voice, from across the couch, and he wants to _die_. He still can’t really control his eyes--so, still functionally blind, when it comes down to it--but he’s at least mostly managing to keep his mouth from contorting or opening weirdly. When he tries to talk and doesn’t stutter or lose the ability entirely, he’s thankful as hell.

“Yeah! This is…” He feels himself trail off. He hears himself trail off. Some part of him knows what he needs to say but… it’s just not coming out. Then it’s gone entirely and he’s completely forgotten what he was talking about in the first place. The following few moments of silence are extremely loaded, before his eyes come back to him and he can turn his head over to look at Pat, just barely managing not to fall off the streaming couch as he does so.

He still doesn’t say anything, though; totally unable to piece words together in his mind, let alone say them out loud. He doesn’t say anything, until Pat, looking more concerned than Brian has seen in his life, says, “Are you okay? Brian? Can you, like, hear me? Are you with me? Do I--fuck, do I need to call an ambulance or something?” This is enough to pull Brian out of his daze, at least for the moment.

“No!” He manages to get out, focusing really hard on the words, holding them in his brain and thinking them over and over in an attempt to not lose the thought. “I’m. I mean, not okay. Clearly I’m not okay. But this is just--it happens. Sometimes. It’s been a while, but, like, I have a diagnosis and everything. No ambulances, that would make me go bankrupt and there’s nothing they could do in the emergency room. Could you just--grab my phone and, uh, call Laura?” He manages to hold his arms up enough to demonstrate to Pat the way that his hands and fingers are contorting back and forth, clearly making him incapable of using his phone himself.

As Pat does so, Brian can’t take his eyes off of him. He’s waiting for his look of confusion, his look of horror, his look of betrayal. Anything. Pat remains stoic with a touch of concern, though, as he selects Laura from the contacts and dials the number.

“Sup, Bri?” Laura always talks absurdly loud on the phone, so Brian can hear her voice even though it’s not on speaker and Pat is a few feet away.

“Hey, Laura, this is--um. This isn’t Brian, it’s Pat. I’m calling because we’re, uh, at the office? And he’s having, like, an episode of some sort? I don’t--really know. But he told me to call you, so.”

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Laura says, and then, “Jonah, we gotta go get Brian from the Polygon office, he’s got the _wiggles_.” Pat looks bewildered at this sentence; Brian feels like he’s gonna cry (but, like, in a good way. He loves his sister and the nonchalant way she’s always handled this particular situation). “Pat, I can stay on the phone with you if you want. Give us, like, twenty minutes and we’ll be there.”

“Okay…? It won’t, like, be subsided by then?”

“Oh, well, he’ll probably be able to _walk_ by then--”

“I can walk now, you bitch!” Brian yells, so that Laura will be able to hear him.

“Sure, you can, bro,” Laura says, a little louder than she’d been talking before to ensure Brian can hear her. “But I don’t think you wanna play your special version of The Floor Is Lava all the way through your office building and down the sidewalk to wherever we manage to park the car. We’ll bring Terry with us.” Pat looks perplexed. Brian feels like he may start crying for real at the thought of Pat seeing Terry.

“Uh, Laura, you don’t have to stay on the phone. Just, like, call me when you get here.” Pat looks dazed as he hangs up the phone before Laura can respond. There’s another extremely loaded silence as he looks at Brian and Brian experiences a few moments of not being able to open his clenched eyes. “Uh, Bri… You don’t, like, have to explain anything you don’t want to. It’s fine, you can explain later. Or never. I just. Is there anything I can do to, like, help?” And it’s only been a month since their first kiss, but Brian is pretty sure he’s in love with this man.

“Yeah, um if you…” He trails off again. Focuses hard on his words. “If you could, uh. If you could. If you--” He’s going to fucking _kill himself god fucking dammit_. “--Could, um. Uh. Just, like. I mean. If you could just talk like nothing’s wrong. Just, like. Distract me? Distract me. Distract me.” More silence as Pat tries to process the sudden onset of this new speech pattern without outwardly showing how thrown off or worried he really is. “I’m, like, listening, I swear. Even if it seems like I’m not. Maybe can’t. May not be able to. Uh? Maybe can’t respond? But. Talk my ear off, baby.”

“O-okay,” Pat says. They make eye contact now that Brian has control of his goddamn face once more. “I, uh, don’t think I told you that Charles nearly sliced my nipple off this morning.” Brian feels himself smile sloppily as his eyes slip closed, this time of their own volition. He feels high, and he knows if he responds he’s gonna sound high, but it’s not like he can do anything at this point to freak Pat out more (at least, not till Laura and Jonah get there).

“Ohhhhh, that’s. That’s not _good_. I really… like... your nipples, Pat Gill.” Brian feels himself fall over onto the arm of the couch, and when the only reaction he gets from Pat is a snort, he feels bizarrely ecstatic. At least he hasn’t fallen off the couch yet.

There’s more silence, and, God--Brian hates silence when this happens. It makes it worse, makes it harder for him to get out of his own head. “I’ll uh… tell you? What’s going on? If you? Wanna know?”

“If you wanna tell me, Bri, I wanna hear it.” Brian’s torso twists one way then the other. He feels his arms lift in the air, shaking like he’s performing some extremely bizarre dance. Pat’s about to see him in his goddamn wheelchair. May as well.

“‘Kay, Pat Gill. ‘Kay. It’s this thing called… Functional Neurological Disorder? Suuuuuper rare. Rare pokemon. Rare brain disorder. Shiny brain disorder?” Pat huffs a little laugh under his breath and reaches out gingerly, silently asking if he can touch Brian. Brian nods as best he can, and suddenly Pat is sidled up against him, gently maneuvering his body so that he’s resting against Pat. “It causes, basically. _This_ shit, I guess. And. And! I have it. Please press f.”

“F,” Pat whispers against the knuckles of the trembling hand he’s grasped gently in his own.

“And, um. I go into remission for months at a time but there’s flare ups sometimes. Jus’. Depends. Think this flare up will last. An annoying amount of time. Gonna hafta use my Terry for way too long. Gonna have to stay behind the cameras for a while. F?”

“F.”

“Can’t walk too well. Can’t talk too well or move too well. One time in college I fell off a toilet ‘n had to call Jonah to come help me limp back to our room.”

“F,” Pat says, this time with no prompting. Brian musters as much muscle control as he can manage in order to nestle his head back, into Pat’s chest.

“It, you know. It sucks! But. It’s me, baby. All organic Brian brain.”

“Well,” Pat says, wrapping his arms around Brian’s cramping torso. “I like Brian brain.”

“God, you’re a fuckin’ sap. Can’t… Can’t…” Brian huffs. “Can’t believe all it took to see your true sap colors was my disability rearing it’s ugly ass head.”

They sit there in silence for a bit; it’s easier to manage, overall, when Brian can close his eyes and lean back against Pat, can focus on the way Pat is carding his fingers through Brian’s hair rather than the way his ass nearly keeps slipping off of his seat because his legs and hips won’t stop jerking.

Eventually, they get the call from Laura. Pat tells her the building code and directs her up to the streaming room, and the next thing Brian knows, she and Jonah and Terry are all there. It’s like a horrible party. “Terry, my love,” Brian sighs dramatically. Pat laughs as he realizes that Terry is Brian’s wheelchair, then gets up and out of the way so that Jonah can lean over and help Brian up off the couch and into the chair.

“He’s got huge BDE,” Jonah says in Pat’s direction. Brian manages to look at Pat once he’s situated his legs on the stirrups in time to see Pat try to figure out why Brian having a rare neurological disorder and needing to use a wheelchair means he has extreme big dick energy.

“Baby Deer Energy!” Laura exclaims, just before Pat can ask about it. She and Jonah laugh, and Pat joins in. Brian hangs his head off the back of his chair in fake exasperation.

As he does so, his hips thrust up of their own volition; a weird gyrating movement that would be totally sexual in nature if it weren’t being involuntarily caused by Brian’s disability. Brian can’t help the joke that proceeds: “Wish I was doing this on your dick instead of this lousy chair, Pat.” 

He grins as Pat blushes, just a bit, and when Pat follows him up with, “Next time let me sit down first and you can get in my lap,” He knows it’s love for _real_.

**Author's Note:**

> as always, you can find me on tumblr @ hehimlesbianpatgill. feel free to come say hi, i'm currently working on and posting FREQUENTLY about an alternate universe where the altogether is a punk band and brian is an edgy punk frontman. we have fun.
> 
> finally, i love it when y'all leave comments you're always so unbelievably nice :,) this verse will like DEFINITELY have more in the future. i know i say that about every single fic i publish but like i said this is me COPING so. im prob gonna keep busting little stupid things like this out till im either back in remission or i've grown accustomed to my disability getting in the way of my life again
> 
> (pps "the wiggles" is how i and everyone i know refers to my dystonia and "bde (baby deer energy)" is often a common joke cuz! sometimes when i walk i look like a baby deer! and also the whole "the floor is lava" thing is a reference to the fact that when you're barely able to hold yourself up when standing without collapsing it's easier to get aroudn if you, like, RUN and just throw yourself against walls and furniture like you're playing the floor is lava, cuz of the momentum or something. idk if there's actual science behind it but it helps


End file.
